


if i come unhinged, let you under my skin

by voxofthevoid



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aroused Victim, Bondage, Established Relationship, Fluffy Ending, Forced Orgasms, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Rape Fantasy, References to Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: “Bucky.”Bucky stirs at the sound of Steve’s voice. He hasn’t managed to free himself of the restraints. His face heats when he thinks of how he stopped trying a few minutes ago.At least, he thinks it’s been a few minutes. He’s not very good at keeping track of time without a clock or phone to check. He used to be, but that was a lifetime, maybe two, ago. And now, he doesn’t know how long it’s been, and Steve’s awake, and Steve’s seeing him—He hears the sharp snip of scissors, and the pressure on his arms disappears.Bucky lets his arms fall to either side of his body. He wants to scramble upright and curl into Steve, let those strong arms and broad chest cradle him and block out the world. But he doesn’t because it’s too late. Steve saw.Steve hauls him up. He’s not rough about it, but his hands are firm, movements economical. Bucky shrinks into himself, but then Steve grabs his chin and turns his head, and he can’t escape those piercing blue eyes that never miss a single detail.-It's just another night in the Rogers-Barnes household.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 70
Kudos: 493





	if i come unhinged, let you under my skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in some vague canon-ish universe where they’re settled into married domesticity. With, y’know, a good dose of filth. This is also a rape fantasy that jumps straight into it, and part of the fantasy also includes scenes of victim blaming. There’s a post-scene talk at the end, with a general idea of what happens, if you’d like to read that first. Or, you can hmu on my [tumblr](voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/).
> 
> The lovely banner is by kocuria—you can find her [here!](kocuria.tumblr.com/)

* * *

* * *

Bucky wakes up on his stomach, with his hands bound at his back and a pressing weight on his thighs. He’s tense for a moment before melting into the sheets. There’s only one person who’d have managed all this without waking him and getting punched in the dick.

“G’morning, Steve,” he says, turning his head so his words aren’t muffled. He can see the edge of a bare knee. “Got plans for me?”

A gloved hand runs down the whole length of his spine. Bucky shudders. He’s a little confused, too, at the glove. Steve’s naked; Bucky can feel the heat of his skin where Steve’s sitting on him. He can’t imagine why he’s wearing gloves—

“You could say that,” says a voice that most certainly does not belong to Steve.

Bucky surges to motion, trying to throw off the man. He’s kept down laughably easily, with a knee on the small of his back and a hand fisted in his hair. Another hand slams down on the pillow beside his head, and the man’s weight makes him choke when he leans in to say, “Now, now. Behave.”

“Get off me,” Bucky whispers furiously, fear trickling in, adrenaline pumping. He tries to fight loose, but it’s no good. “Steve! _Steve!_ ”

Steve’s home, Bucky knows Steve’s home—

A hand clamps over his mouth, too tight for him to try and bite. It hurts.

“Your husband’s asleep on the couch. Downstairs. Marriage, huh?”

Ice lances through Bucky. Disbelief wars with the reality pinning him down.

The man shifts, letting go of Bucky’s mouth and hair, but enough of his weight remains on Bucky to keep him down. He tries anyway, but his squirming and growled threats don’t even elicit a response.

At least that’s what he thinks until fingers grip his jaw, fingers digging cruelly into his cheeks, forcing him to open his mouth. Something is shoved in, and he tastes cotton before a familiar musk flood his nose. The man clamps his palm over the gag.

“Hush now,” he says, pushing Bucky’s underwear further into his mouth. “You wouldn’t want to wake him up, hm? What if he comes here? What would the good captain think, seeing you spread out for me?”

Steve wouldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ —

Bucky shakes his head violently. The fingers on his face are going to leave bruises.

There’s a noise he can’t decipher. It’s not until bare fingers slide down his crack that he realizes the man took off his gloves. His hands are no gentler for it, pushing and prodding roughly, thumb tugging at Bucky’s rim like he can pry him open just like that.

“ _Stop_ ,” he tries to say, but it comes out distorted and incoherent through the gap. He still tries, again and again, bucking his body and pushing protests through his stuffed mouth.

“You want me to stop?” the man asks, and he sounds amused, but Bucky can’t stop nodding, hard and frantic.

“Nah. Why would I do that, when I’ve finally got you like this? Been watching you for a long time, James.”

Bucky goes cold all over, then there’s something cold on his skin too, trickling wetly down his crack, over his hole, his taint. He shudders hard, whines when fingers follow that slick path, tries to scream when one pushes in.

“Hush,” the man says, laughing, mocking. “You can take it.”

Bucky shakes his head. His spit’s soaking the gag, there are wet trails down his cheeks, meeting the man’s hand where it’s clamped over his mouth. There’s a faint chuckle and he takes his hand away. Fingers wipe away the tears, the touch anything but tender.

“Hey now, don’t cry,” he says, tone something that would pass for kind if not for a voice that’s too rough and sharp. “Or do. I don’t actually mind.”

There’s a wet sucking sound, deliberately loud. Bucky’s tears on the man’s tongue.

Fresh tears spill down his face, stinging his lips where they’re stretched wide over the gag.

The man pulls his fingers out, and Bucky shudders again. But his heart pounds faster when the man shifts, his weight redistributing itself over Bucky, keeping him down while the man moves into a position that will better allow him to—

Bucky keens through the gag when fingers push inside him again, two this time, the lube not enough for both. He tries to scream for the man to stop, pull it out, and _leave_ , but all that escapes are muffled noises. He laughs like he knows exactly what Bucky’s trying to say.

More wetness splashes over his skin, lube being drizzled over his hole, and when the man’s fingers return with a third in tow, Bucky’s curses turn to pleas. If the change in tone makes it through the gag, the man gives no reaction that he’s heard it. His keeps _touching_ , the hand not prying Bucky open roving over his ass and thighs, caressing the skin with a slow deliberation that clings like mud to Bucky’s flesh even after the man’s moved on.

He’s never felt so helpless.

The fingers pull out roughly. It stings and leaves behind a hollow ache that Bucky forces himself not to dwell on.

There are more wet noises, louder than the squelch of lubed fingers plunging into him. Bucky doesn’t think about it either. He works on his arms instead, trying to squirm out of the rope twined around them. He knows, even before the man swats at his writhing fingers with a soft tsk, that it’s fruitless. He knows what to do to get what he wants, and what he clearly wants is Bucky at his mercy.

Bucky growls. The man doesn’t even react.

His weight settles on Bucky’s thighs again, same as it was when he woke up. Broad hands, bare of gloves, spread his ass wide. Bucky goes tense all over, but it stops nothing. He tries to scream, but the high, distorted noises that make it past his gag are useless too.

The blunt tip teases his hole. Bucky tries to clench up, but that just makes it hurt more.

White-hot pain spears through him. He tries to squirm away and just ends up grinding into the mattress, trapped by the weight over him and the cock pushing into him.

The man’s breathing hard. He’s huge and relentless, and Bucky can’t breathe.

“Christ,” he says, pleasure straining his voice. “You’re _tight_. Your husband doesn’t fuck you enough, huh, honey? S’why you’re so desperate for it.”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky tries to shout, all in vain.

The sentiment must make it through anyway.

“Liar,” he says. “Think I can’t see you need it?”

A finger traces Bucky’s rim, nail scraping the tightly stretched skin. He can’t help reacting, shivering and clenching. The man laughs and pushes in, and Bucky thought it was too much before, but it doesn’t end, that cock sliding in and in and _in_ , until he’s choking like it has slid all the way up to his throat.

The man’s breathing harder now, the rhythm a rushed, ragged thing that’s not quite drowned out by the ringing in Bucky’s ears. He’s so full, stretched to his limits around that monster dick, and the man just keeps pushing, grinding his hips against Bucky’s even though he’s got nothing more to give and Bucky can’t take any more.

He can’t stop screaming, begging, but not a single word makes it past his lips.

The man sighs. His cock shifts inside Bucky when he moves, dragging and tugging at the delicate parts of him. It hurts, but the lightning-hot flash of sensations still make his dick swell where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress.

Warm lips brush his ear.

“If I take off the gag, are you going to behave?”

Bucky holds his breath. Fingers fist in his hair again, yanking his head up until his neck aches.

“Don’t scream, James. You won’t like what happens if you do.”

Bucky just trembles, tears cool on his burning face.

“Nod.”

He nods.

The man lets go of his hair, and Bucky collapses face-first, struggling to breathe with his face buried in a pillow. There’s a faint huff from behind him. The man shifts; his cock slides out of Bucky, not all the way, but enough that the hot drag of it along his walls make him wail.

“Oh, hush,” he says, pulling Bucky’s head back again, his other hand snaking around his jaw. “I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

The gag’s pulled out of his mouth. Bucky gulps in air and chokes on it. His jaw aches, his tongue’s numb, and when he breathes, he still inhales his own, musky scent.

Spit trickles down his chin as he tries to ease the pain and the numbness.

The man slams back into him, burying those damned few inches back inside Bucky in a burst of violence. He gasps but bites the pillow before it turns into a scream. His cock throbs between his legs.

“That’s it,” the man says, voice dark and pleased. “Just like that.”

Bucky goes tight all over, heat suffusing his veins. The man groans, working his cock deeper into Bucky until there’s nothing more for it to take, and it’s all Bucky can do to breathe around the pressure and the pain and the—

He fucks in deep, hips grinding, cock dragging wetly along Bucky’s walls, hitting that spot on every other thrust. Bucky shudders, hard and helpless, and it feels—it feels good, and he doesn’t want it to, but as if clued in by Bucky’s broken whines, the man hikes his hips up and fucks in at just the right angle to make stars burst under Bucky’s lids.

“Look at that. Knew you’d like it.”

Bucky shakes his head. Tries again to fight free of his bindings. Fails.

The man doesn’t even bother with that pathetic show at resistance. He just fucks, cock plunging in deep and sliding out slow and hot, forcing breathless cries out of Bucky with every thrust. He’s got the kind of girth that makes it impossible to escape the barrage of sensation—of pleasure—and Bucky’s helpless against the heat that throbs along the swell of his own dick. The position doesn’t help; he’s flat on the mattress, rocked back and forth by the cock in him, and his own dick keeps rubbing against the sheets, precome beading as the friction sparks along its length.

He’s always been too easy for this, and his own body’s turning against him, drowning him in wave after wave of toxic pleasure.

The man knows it and takes advantage. His cock hits Bucky’s prostate with unnerving accuracy, the fat girth pressing in on that spot like it’s trying to milk an orgasm out of him. And he bears down on Bucky with every thrust, pressing him into the mattress even as his body’s jerked along for the ride, and soon, Bucky’s trying to hold in moans, not screams.

There’s a laugh from behind him, low and smug. It grates. Before Bucky can even spit a curse at him, the man speeds up, and words flee his mind as fire floods his veins.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, squirming, writhing, still trapped and open and burning. “Please, wait, stop, I’ll—please.”

“Yeah,” the man says, voice dipping lower. “I know, come on, I want to feel it.”

“No, _no_ —”

It doesn’t matter how he begs, how he tries to lifts his hips off the bed. It builds and builds, crests, and Bucky shakes apart with a desperate cry.

“ _Steve!_ ”

The man stops, groaning as Bucky clenches around his cock.

“That’s real sweet,” he says, and then he’s moving again, dick sliding out, the thick head pulling free of Bucky’s rim with a wet pop.

It burns, but Bucky can’t make a sound.

The man grabs his hips, yanks them up, and Bucky’s shoulders take his weight as he’s forced into sharp arch. His cock hangs limp between his legs. His belly’s covered in his own mess.

He’s filled in a single, savage thrust.

A hand is slapped over his mouth before Bucky’s scream can rend the air.

Fingers dig harshly into his flesh as the man sets a pace that could break, drilling deep into Bucky’s oversensitive body. The glancing brushes over his swollen prostate _hurt_ , but Bucky’s whines fall on uncaring ears. All the man does is speed up, slamming into Bucky harder and rougher, breaking him down into a writhing, whimpering mess of pulsing heat and sharp sensation.

It’s an instant of horror to realize he’s babbling, begging for the man to just come in him, and it’s little comfort that the words are muffled by the palm over his mouth.

He gets his wish a moment later, the cock lodged deep inside him jerking as it comes.

It fills him up, wet warmth seeping into his insides. It’s familiar, the sensation, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut when a flash of mild arousal makes his soft cock throb.

The man pulls out. Come trickles out of Bucky’s hole, dripping down his thighs. It’s wet and dirty.

 _He’s_ dirty.

The weight on Bucky disappears. His lower half hits the mattress and melts into it bonelessly.

The bed dips.

A hand strokes his hair, fingers gently scratching the scalp. He shivers at the touch and can’t muster the energy to lean away. The man doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in the air that sets Bucky’s teeth on edge. He can taste hesitation.

“Haven’t you had your fill?” Bucky asks, and he means it to be cold, but it comes out weaker than intended.

It works anyway.

The man takes his hand back.

“Wouldn’t say that,” the man says, his voice still a low, guttural rasp. “I’ll leave you be for now. Just like this. A present for your husband.”

Bucky goes tense all over, and that elicits a short laugh. The man’s hand strokes down his spine, slipping between his cheeks to inspect the mess he’s made. Bucky’s hole is sore, swollen, and the touch stings. Fingers pat it once and withdraw, and Bucky blinks away the absurd sting of tears.

“I’ll see you, James.”

Footsteps grow fainter. A door clicks shut.

Bucky’s alone.

-

“Bucky.”

Bucky stirs at the sound of Steve’s voice. He hasn’t managed to free himself of the restraints. His face heats when he thinks of how he stopped trying a few minutes ago.

At least, he thinks it’s been a few minutes. He’s not very good at keeping track of time without a clock or phone to check. He used to be, but that was a lifetime, maybe two, ago. And now, he doesn’t know how long it’s been, and Steve’s awake, and Steve’s seeing him—

He hears the sharp snip of scissors, and the pressure on his arms disappears.

Bucky lets his arms fall to either side of his body. He wants to scramble upright and curl into Steve, let those strong arms and broad chest cradle him and block out the world. But he doesn’t because it’s too late. Steve saw.

Steve hauls him up. He’s not rough about it, but his hands are firm, movements economical. Bucky shrinks into himself, but then Steve grabs his chin and turns his head, and he can’t escape those piercing blue eyes that never miss a single detail.

There’s red on Steve’s cheeks and his eyes are darker than they should be. They bore into Bucky’s, and he can’t for the life of him decipher whether it’s a silent appraisal or a demand for an explanation.

Silently, Bucky starts crying.

Steve’s expression softens.

“Ssh,” he says, and Bucky cries harder.

Steve pulls him against himself, shifting and tugging Bucky until he’s nearly in Steve’s lap, the two of them sprawled in the middle of the bed. Steve’s hands are big and rough, sliding across Bucky’s sweat-soaked skin in ways that make him sob into the hollow of Steve’s neck. He smells warm and familiar, and it’s nice, the comfort of home as shakes apart.

Steve’s running soothing hands all over him, gripping Bucky’s nape, stroking down his back, gripping his ass, touching his—

Bucky stills.

“Steve?” he mumbles.

Steve presser harder at his hole.

It’s loose. Slick and gaping from—

From—

Steve’s finger slides in easily.

There’s a harsh intake of breath. It’s not Bucky. Bucky’s quiet and frozen, a hunched statue in Steve’s arms. Steve’s chest rumbles against him, and the sound that escapes isn’t pleasant at all.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, digging his fingers into Steve’s shoulders. The pins and needles have faded, but his right arm is still weaker than it should be. He feels about as strong as a newborn kitten, nothing compared to the silky steel of Steve’s bulging muscles.

Bucky’s nothing against him, just something small and helpless.

Another finger. Bucky gasps against Steve’s neck and tastes his own tears.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asks.

Bucky doesn’t say anything. The fingers inside him hook cruelly over the rim, stretching it wide. Bucky whines, high and pained, as the sting sizzles all the way up his spine.

Steve makes a quiet, considering noise.

“Steve,” Bucky says, realizing the plea in his tone with a start. He swallows. “Steve, please.”

Steve tips them forward, pouring Bucky into the mattress, pinning his arms on either side of the bed. He could fight, but Steve tightens his grip and bears down on Bucky with his weight, and Bucky freezes.

Steve’s blue, blue eyes peer down at him. His pupils are wide. His expression makes Bucky go hot and cold all at once.

He shakes his head once. Steve’s eyes narrow.

“How many times?” he asks.

This time, Bucky answers.

“One.”

He doesn’t quite know the question, but he’s only got the one answer.

Steve runs his hand down Bucky’s right arm, trailing his fingers feather-soft till the bent elbow and running his flat palm up Bucky’s bicep. He strokes along Bucky’s shoulder and collarbone, curling his hand lightly around his throat, the thumb resting on Bucky’s lower lip. It’s swollen and red, he knows.

Steve taps it, raises an eyebrow. Bucky shakes his head numbly.

The kiss is sudden, hard. Bucky whimpers into it but parts his lips for the wet slide of Steve’s tongue. It’s quick too, Steve pulling back a few seconds later and leaving Bucky with tingling lips. He darts in, teeth sinking into Bucky’s lower lip. He barely registers the pain before Steve pushes himself up and back, settling on his knees between Bucky’s legs.

Bucky stares at him, pressing himself flat down the mattress.

“Bucky.”

He has to try twice before he speaks.

“S-Steve.”

“Did you scream?”

“Steve, please.”

Fingers dig into his hips, over bruises that must already be there. The positioning is too eerily perfect for Steve to not have seen them.

“Answer me.”

“I—at first—I tried, I did.”

Steve blinks. There’s a terrifying lack of expression on his face. Bucky’s gut has twisted itself into hard, aching knots.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s very calm. His eyes are more black than blue. He makes quick work of his clothes; he’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and they’re easily shoved down to his thighs. Bucky stares with wide eyes at the red tip of his cock and drags them back to Steve’s face. He doesn’t say a single word.

Steve bends him in half and fills him up with come slicking the way.

Bucky _screams_.

Steve’s got his teeth bared. His eyes are bright with an unholy light. He sets Bucky’s legs on his shoulders and braces himself with both arms on either side of Bucky. The heat of his body laps at Bucky, but he’s already burning.

Steve leans in until his mouth is brushing Bucky’s. His breath’s warm, the air between them hot, and Bucky whines low in his throat.

“Tighten up a little, honey,” Steve murmurs, voice hushed like he’s sharing secrets. “You’re all loose.”

Bucky’s breath breaks on a sob.

“Steve,” he begs, but Steve’s moving already, cock thrusting in and out of Bucky, a slippery-slick slide that’s too wet, too easy because Steve’s right, Bucky’s open and loose from before.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, clenching, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

Steve slams in, rough and brutal, and Bucky chokes on the words. But he does try to make it good, tightening around Steve, again and again, until he’s breathless and dizzy with it.

Steve’s silent, but he’s always silent when he fucks, and his expression is twisted in on itself, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched tight. Bucky raises a trembling hand and buries it in Steve’s hair, and that gets him eyes that flash open to bore into his, their blue weaving a dark spell. Bucky can’t look away, can’t move, can’t do anything other than lie there and whimper softly.

“Did he touch you?”

The words take a while to sink in. Bucky’s lost to the haze of Steve’s eyes and the relentless drive of his cock. His body’s thrumming, skin burning, ass aching, sharp-edged pleasure weaved into the pain. Steve’s never had to do much to turn him into a whining thing of want and need, and it’s hard even now to think past the plundering heat of his cock.

Steve repeats the question, and Bucky forces a question out of himself.

“Touch—touch where?”

Steve lifts a hand and lays it on Bucky’s chest, dragging it down his body until it’s loosely curled in Bucky’s treasure trail. It stings, bits of dried come stuck to the fine hairs there.

Bucky’s heart pounds in his throat.

“No,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand wraps around his dick. It’s hard and throbs with want in Steve’s rough, sure grasp. He gives it a good, slow drag, and Bucky arches sharply off the bed. It drives Steve deeper into him, their hips flush together, bodies slick with sweat and flushed with heat. He’s a mess, inside and out, and Steve’s in him, on him, keeping Bucky spread on his cock and pinned under his bulk.

Bucky shudders and shakes, and Steve fucks him through it, hand a blur on Bucky’s cock, tugging him roughly. The touch sparks like lightning, digging sharp teeth into Bucky’s gut, and but it’s all he can do it cling to Steve and blink the white out of his vision.

“You’re mine,” Steve says, almost casual except for the growl in his voice.

“Steve—”

“This is mine.”

A squeeze of his cock, hard and almost painful.

“And this.”

A brutal thrust, Steve’s cock sliding out and then back in, tearing a wounded cry out of Bucky.

“And this.”

Bucky’s too dazed to return the kiss, can only pant open-mouthed when Steve fucks him with his tongue, setting a rough, sloppy rhythm to match that of his cock. There’s too much teeth, Bucky’s lips bleed from it, all of him catching on Steve’s sharp edges.

When Steve pulls back, there’s blood on his mouth and a demand in his eyes.

“Yours,” Bucky gasps, writhing against the pleasure ravaging his body, as violent as the plunge of Steve’s cock.

Steve growls and swoops down again. Bucky tastes blood in this kiss and shudders with it, rippling around Steve and fucking up into his fist. He doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t, but Steve swears against his mouth and screws in deep and his hand’s moving fast and hard and sure, squeezing the base and twisting around the head and digging a blunt nail into the tip. It’s too much, all of it’s too much, and it’s all Bucky can do to keen into the kiss and writhe like a trapped animal as Steve keeps up his relentless pace.

It's a relief to come, his insides clamping down on Steve as his cock spurts over his fingers. Pulsing pleasure rips through Bucky, wringing him dry of everything he’s got to give and then some, his orgasm stretched out by Steve drilling into him, his rhythm never once faltering.

The last of it tears through him, and Bucky slumps, worn and empty.

He closes his eyes and lets Steve take his pound of flesh.

-

When he comes to, the room is dark save for the dull glow of the bedside lamp. Steve’s lying beside him, facing Bucky. He’s wide awake, concern painted across his face.

Bucky quietly takes stock of his body.

He’s sore all over in that sweet, familiar that says Steve worked him over real good. His ass is sore, his hips and arms bear the pulsing pain of healing bruises, and he feels loose and boneless, like he’ll have to be scraped off the bed like a wad of gum.

He’s clean too.

“You better not have stopped when I passed out,” Bucky says. He tries to glare at Steve, but his face isn’t capable of that at the moment. “Waste of a good ass.”

Steve’s face cycles through quite a few expressions before it settles on fond exasperation.

“Not like your ass is a rare commodity here. And no, I didn’t.” Then, after a long pause, he adds, “Thought about it though.”

“Steven.”

“I _didn’t_. Christ, let a guy care about his husband.”

“Your husband’s fine. Your husband is well fucked and not leaving this bed for a week.”

Steve smiles. It’s a small one, mostly there in his eyes. It warms Bucky all the way down to his shriveled soul.

“You woke up in the bath,” Steve says. “All out of it. Very sweet. Cried all pretty and clung to me.”

Warmth spreads through Bucky, starting at his cheeks and creeping down until the whole of him is enveloped in a wonderous blend of affection and embarrassment. It always affects him the same, how Steve’s hard and soft in turns.

“Don’t remember,” Bucky says, though that’s not quite true. Now that Steve’s mentioned it, he has vague images of being in the water with Steve’s arms around him and Steve’s voice in his ear. “You like me crying way too much.”

“I like it the perfect amount,” Steve counters softly.

He reaches out and strokes Bucky’s face, settling his hand there when Bucky only leans into it. Sometimes, after scenes, he needs space. Sometimes, he’s a limpet. Today seems to be the calm middle-ground. He just wants Steve close, and Steve’s close.

Steve’s fingers walk up his face and slide into his hair, and Bucky’s eyes slip shut when they start massaging. It feels so good, it’s obscene.

“Mm. That was a nice trick.”

“Oh?”

“The voice. Wasn’t yours at all.”

“Ah. I…may have liberated a voice modulator.”

Bucky opens his eyes and squints at Steve, taking in his expression, which is equal parts smug and guilty.

“Nat? She’ll kill you. And me by association.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I took it from Clint.”

Bucky whistles. It comes out as a pitiful wheeze because his throat’s dry and he’s still kind of melted, but the sentiment is what counts. He closes his eyes again, smiling when the mattress shifts and Steve’s body slots against his. Bucky squirms into him.

“Was it good?” Steve asks softly. “Got worried when you passed out.”

Bucky kisses him without opening his eyes. It lands on Steve’s chin.

“You were perfect. I was terrified just right. ‘Sides, you’ve got standing permission to fuck me when I’m unconscious.”

Steve hums. He’s pleased. Proud too, chest all puffed up like a caveman. Some hundred years, ice and all, and he still preens like a peacock every time he fucks Bucky’s brains out.

“I liked it more than I expected,” Steve says; he always wants to talk after, while Bucky just wants to pass out. He pries his eyes open because it’s clear he’s already been out of it a lot, and it’ll put Steve at ease if they discuss it at least perfunctorily before Bucky resumes snoring.

“Which part? Ain’t the first time we’ve tried a rape fantasy. Or the fifth. I know you like it.”

Steve swats his ass very, very gently. Bucky bites him.

“The second part.”

Steve’s cheeks are red. He’s not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. It’s adorable.

And Bucky is anything but surprised.

“Staking your claim,” he says, and Steve actually squirms a little. “Of course. Caveman.”

“Hey!”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” Steve’s grinning, wide and pleased. Smug, always smug. “Good.”

Bucky gives him a soft, lazy kiss.

“Mmhm. Now hold me and let me sleep. I’ve earned my rest.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Despite the snark, Steve does hold him, gentle and firm like Bucky’s something precious. It’s the safest feeling in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to hear what you think <3


End file.
